


Echoes of Zygerria

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Blood and Torture, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Graphic Description, Hostage Murder, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Objectification, Protective Love, Psychological Torture, Sexual Slavery, Threats Against Children, Zygerria, Zygerrian Slave Empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The story that was supposed to be about Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Satine and now isn't, because it is set during the ancient Zygerrian empire.The Master sold into slavery, the former Padawan left with no way of knowing anything had gone wrong, the Mando equally unaware.Some things may feel familiar, others won't. Almost all of it will be very dark. How far does love go and what is it able to endure?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather big project, and while I will take it in small chunks, quite a bit is already written, and I know where I'm heading.

 

Relann Kynd, Jedi Knight, age thirty-six, was in trouble. They had laid a trap, and he had walked right into it.

Light skinned, sandy haired, Core-accented, brown eyed, one-point-eight-two meters tall, slim but strong, and terribly, utterly caught.

Though the former description was slightly inaccurate. He was a Jedi  _ Master  _ now. It was difficult to get used to the idea.

His Padawan had passed his trials into knighthood, and that made Relann a Master. Of course, if Kelasar had been with him, he might not have been taken.

Another blow fell, the electrified whip cutting into his back and jolting him at the same time.

He'd awakened here, bound to the wall, and the beating had commenced.

Zygerrians.

He hadn't been hunting the Slave Empire, so there could only be one reason why they would go through the effort of taking him.

Profit.

The unfortunate thing of it was that his fellow Jedi didn't expect him to check in for months. He'd set out on a sensitive long-term mission to an area where communications would have compromised his work.

Perfect cover.

By the time anyone thought to look for him, the trails, which  _ didn't _ lead back here, by the way, would be long cold.

_ I'm on my own. _

He tried to focus, to see if he could break the chains, but every time electricity caressed his mind, it shattered his concentration.

He felt weak, and his brain muzzy. The drugs hadn't left his system yet.

_ I'm helpless. _

And his soul ached with a dull longing. That sensation could mean only one thing:  _ They took my lightsaber. _

And it was too far away to touch.

It might even be destroyed.

Though...

Given the Zygerriaians' reputation...

It was probably going to be sold.

His skin gave way beneath another strike and he felt blood run down his back. Sweat beaded his brow, from pain, not from heat. His body shuddered against the assault.

And then an injector slammed into the side of his neck, and unconsciousness claimed him once more.

 

* * *

 

Relann awoke to find himself lying flat in sand. The surging in his veins suggested he'd had another injection to bring him back from the darkness.

A booming, echoing voice grated somewhere above him.

Zygerrian in accent.

A low murmur, occasionally lifting into a roar, flowed behind it.

Fear skittered down Relann's sore, sore back. Pushing himself onto his hands and knees, he raised his head to look.

A vast arena. Observation balconies raised tier upon tier all around it.

Flying cams hovering all around him.

Undoubtedly transmitting images of him from every angle possible to the spectators above.

They wouldn't want to miss a single flinch the lot might make, now would they?

His throat felt like it was full of gravel, his mouth, parched.

“—For you today. You heard right.  _ Three _ . But before that, we're going to put our Jedi in a compliant mood.”

_ How did I let this happen? _

There was no way he could have seen this coming. The abduction had been too perfect.

_ Can't have the Jedi Order sweeping down to snatch purchases from newly-made owners. They'd stop buying. Bad for business. _

He tried to connect to the Force, but it seemed just out of reach.

Cursed drugs.

Rough hands seized his clothes, attacking the shoulders with vibroblades.

Relann didn't need the Force. He swung his arm away and up, but it felt like he was moving through water, and when his forearm connected with its target, it barely elicited a grunt.

They tore the the tunics from his back, ripping open wounds that had dried fused to the cloth. Relann gasped for air and fell forward onto his hands again.

Force, that  _ hurt _ —

They were after his leggings.

No. They were  _ not  _ taking those.

He had barely tensed to fight when electricity destroyed all resistance. Thought impossible as long as the vicious pulses wracked his body, he recovered to discover his leggings gone, and his mouth full of sand as he shivered, prone on the ground again.

They hauled him up by the arms. His skin, which should have stretched, instead gave along its breaks, pulling the cuts open wider. He hissed in pain as they dragged him to a structure a couple meters away.

He tried to get his feet under him but the Zygerrians were moving too fast. The tops of his toes dug furrows in the golden sand.

They stretched his arms out and up, closing wide latches over them, binding him to the frame. Grinding his teeth against the pain, Relann tried to kick against the hands now pulling his feet apart.

The effort proved futile.

Spread eagle, unable to move more than painful twisting that accomplished nothing, clad only in his undershorts, Relann stared at the sand.

He had to crane his neck back as far as it would go to be able to see any of the observers. The frame was holding him mostly upright, but tilted just enough to be as convenient as possible for whoever might wield a whip.

Wouldn't want to put unnecessary strain on  _ them _ . Of course not.

The weight of his body hung from his forearms, since his feet were at the wrong angle. He tilted his toes, pressing them into the sand, trying to take some of the pressure off the cuffs that stretched almost from wrist to elbow.

The diagonal cross of the frame pressed into his chest. It would keep him from destroying his shoulders.

After all, what was the point of a slave who couldn't use his arms?

_ Slave. _

The word was sour in his mouth.

_ You just need to hang on and keep watch. At some point, the security will be lax enough for you to take your chance. For now? _

For now he just had to deal. There was no way he could release himself from the frame without the Force.

A sharp crack made him flinch. It hadn't touched him. Not yet.

“Look at the defiance in that face! What a spirit! This untamed child of nature could be yours. It's said that Jedi can endure pain that would crush a slave of lesser mettle. You will judge for yourselves!”

Relann glared at the cams floating closer, one moving underneath him so it could look up into his face should he lower his head, others hovering all about.

“Now, my dear guests, take a look at  _ this _ . Your charged whips are perfectly designed to subdue. They inflict pain without tearing skin; they can bring the strongest man to his knees without damaging his looks or incapacitating him from your workforce. Many beings may have forgotten where those whips began. Behold. The pedigree of the extension of your will.

“Rawhide made from the toughest bantha. Look close; see how sharp these edges are. How harsh and unyielding each strip falls from the grip. Are you seeing this?  _ Eight _ cords in total.  _ Eight _ . Each with four sharp edges. As I reach the end here, pay especial attention to these.”

Relann heard a quiet clink, and his blood ran cold.

No.

“Earlier we used a single rawhide strip, electrified, to soften this fighting spirit. See the damage inflicted. Ten lashes, my dear customers. Just ten. This whip we have here? No electricity. But I promise you, the pain inflicted will match the best of shock generators. Yes. These are shards of metal and plasteel. Yes. They are fused to the bantha hide by our own finest artisans. What do you say? Will this break our Jedi?”

The roar of approval hurt Relann's ears, and its echoes knocked mercilessly in his heart.

He'd never been so cut off. So completely surrounded by masses who thirsted for his blood.

_ They're going to kill me. _

Raking shrapnel across his back? How long could his body last against such brutality?

He clenched his jaw, but nothing could prepare him for that first blow.

The auctioneer hadn't been exaggerating.

Relann's head snapped back, lips peeling open. His exhale through grit teeth left him gasping for air.

Merciful Force.

Again, again, again.

His blood ran down his sides, his legs, stained the yellow sand a dirty brown.

His body shaking in agony, his feet stopped providing their minimal support as he could no longer push himself up against his toes.

It hurt too much. His legs were trembling too much.

He hung from his forearms, eyes glazed, panting against the pain.

How much longer?

He bowed his head, shutting his eyes. Knowing his suffering was larger-than-life to everyone standing up there. They were cheering their approval of it, mocking him, and even through his dulled mind he could sense their hate and delight.

It battered his soul like the blows battered his body.

“Look at that, my dear Customers, it appears the rumors are  _ right _ ! Just  _ look _ at the damage inflicted—” Relann barked out a grunt as a hand pressed against the shredded mass. “And he hasn't screamed. Not once. Who wants to hear him scream?”

Relann had thought the roar of approval couldn't get louder.

He'd been wrong.

Hanging there, all he could focus on was survival.

He had to get through this. Had to get away.

_ Lasar.  _ Lasar _ , find me. Please. Sense something is wrong. Padawan, I need you. _

But Kelasar was probably busy on a mission of his own.

“And here we reach the three opportunities for you today. The first round of bidding will decide which one of you gets to come down here, and  _ make _ him scream. We will hand this beautiful whip over to you, and you may try  _ your _ hand at bringing this Jedi to heel. Wouldn't that be something to tell your associates? Think of how your girlfriend will cuddle up to you when she hears you flogged a Jedi into submission, and he screamed like an animal?”

Oh, the crowd loved  _ that _ .

Relann felt the concept of survival bolt, disappearing into the yellow sand that was trying to burn out his eyes with its glare.

As the crowd quieted, the auctioneer's voice lowered to a purr, heard distinctly across the amplification system. “And  _ Ladies _ ... who hasn't heard of how difficult Jedi are to reach? They spend their lives claiming they are impervious to your charms. Our full-honesty policy extends to this Jedi. We will remove the undershorts, and you will be allowed to add whatever he does— or  _ doesn't _ have—” laughter flowed back to him, “to your reasons to purchase or to abstain. But this time, you won't just get to see and  _ guess _ . The second round of bidding will determine which one of you gets to come down here and make this Jedi moan.”

Startled and enthusiastic murmuring broke out in response.

“You can look him in the eye, reach down and—”

He must have made a gesture, because laughter and applause flooded the still, scummy air.

“Oh,  _ Ladies _ . The bragging rights. With your hand, you made a Jedi come undone. Something no one has ever been able to say in all the history of the Jedi Order!”

As the audience roared its delight, Relann's dread turned to sheer terror.

They weren't— they  _ couldn't _ —

He closed his eyes to try to hide his panic.

If they knew how desperately he—

“Oh-ho! Look at that face, my  _ dear customers _ ! It is confirmed; we have a virgin here. Be the  _ first _ to touch this Jedi. Come on. I  _ know  _ you want to see the shock in his eyes not through a screen, but  _ right there _ in all its raw reality.”

The jeers threatened to shred the last of Relann's dignity.

He  _ couldn't _ let them.

The torture was one thing. Being  _ sold  _ was one thing.

But  _ this  _ was something else entirely.

_ Save your strength. Hoard it. Be ready. Then just let loose. _

Would he have the strength to so much as whimper after the first sale went through?

_Lasar, Force, Lasar, please—_

But even if his former Padawan knew something was wrong, he wouldn't be able to get here in time, and Relann didn't have the power to project his voice over such a great distance.

“The third opportunity: One of you gets to take this Jedi  _ home _ with you! You will have witnessed his first scream of pain, and his first gasp of pleasure. And you can repeat  _ either you please _ for as long as you can keep him him contained and alive. Want to bring him out as entertainment at your parties? Beat him, torture him however you see fit? I promise you hours of amusement. Want him to wait on your guests, serving them refreshments and drinks? A testament to your status? Or does the fact that this man can manipulate an unseen force to accomplish things that are nothing short of miraculous— and dangerous— excite you? Have you been eyeing this jawline, the well-tended muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest? He may not have a lot of mass, but think of the endurance and stamina already demonstrated. Is it possible he could call on the Force to please you long after your other pleasure slaves would have fallen short? What do you think is hidden behind those undershorts, and when you find out, will you act? Think of the satisfaction! Not just of bragging rights, but  _ personal _ . A Jedi pleasure slave. Look at the horror, the anguish in those eyes!”

Relann snapped his eyelids closed, but it was too late. The murmurs were running around.

“Of course,” the auctioneer added, “you could always just purchase him to kill him. As slowly or quickly as you like. The decision of what to do with him will be yours; only yours. His life, his very breath will be in your hands. And quite possibly  _ other _ things of his as well, depending on your tastes.”

Again the brazen laughter.

“Each one of you has an encrypted datapad. This is for your own safety. While the Jedi Order does  _ not _ know this wayward Master— yes, you heard that  _ correctly _ not a lowly Padawan, not a stalwart Knight, but a powerful  _ Master— _ is missing, they will eventually discover their loss. Steps have been taken to encourage them to come to the conclusion that he met with an unfortunate and fatal accident, but if there are any snitches present, your datapads will prevent them from relaying back to the old stuffies in the ivory towers  _ who _ has their precious pawn. Should you choose to openly flout your purchase, you will need to take precautionary measures lest they try to claim him, but you have  _ our _ guarantee that they will not learn it from  _ here. _ And now bidding shall commence for opportunity number one. Who wants to teach this Jedi his lesson?”

Utter silence fell across the arena.

If only he was dreaming. If only he would wake up at any moment—

_ Hold on, Kynd. Hold on. _

Minutes dragged by.

Unable to see the fierce bidding war at work, the time felt interminable to the sufferer.

“And we have a winner! So, customers. While he's being escorted down here, how many blows do you think it will take before the Jedi begs for mercy?”

Oh...

That  _ wasn't _ happening. He might not be able to control any of what was coming, but that  _ one  _ dignity he would hold on to.

And it might pay off.

If it was an arrogant and determined individual behind that whip... maybe they would push just a little too far in the quest for the mercy call and kill him.

Shards cut deep into his back, grating across bone. Each blow stripped flesh from his back, leaving nothing behind.

His cries were raw and ragged now, but he didn't scream.

And he sure as  _ hell _ didn't ask for mercy.

When his tormentor was pulled back, he was slipping towards shock. Soon, it wouldn't hurt. Soon, he would just stare blankly at these monsters, not feeling any of it.

Something stabbed the side of the neck.

The putrid sludge that swirled into his bloodstream caused him to jerk his head away, but it was too late.

Merciful shock retreated, shadows driven back by cruel, burning sunlight.

Everything was clear again.  _ So _ clear. He could hear the murmur of the balconies. Footsteps behind him. All of it was back... except for his ability to connect to the Force. He still couldn't focus.

“And now, my  _ dear  _ Customers. The moment you've all been waiting for! Who is coming down here to humiliate a Jedi in a way pain  _ never _ could? Who wants that revenge? You can almost taste his fear and revulsion!  _ Look _ at him.”

Relann couldn't help the fire of desperation that lit his eyes. He struggled against the cuffs that bound him, but it wasn't enough.

They took his undershorts.

The laughter, the catcalls, the clamor sucked the life from his soul.

He hung his head, stared at the sand, and tried to shut it out.

Shut out the auctioneer's commentary.

Shut out the crowd's response.

Tried to retreat into his mind.

The pain wasn't letting him. The pain was destroying his every effort to reach the safe place he'd been trained to create. It was so obliterating.

A woman stood before him.

The bidding was over already? Sweet Force, no,  _ no _ —

He had no idea what she looked like. All he could see were her eyes.

Cold, hard, triumphant.

“Please,” he rasped. “Please—”

_ Don't beg. Don't beg. It's all you have left. Don't. Beg— _

His body wasn't paying attention.

He fought his restraints, terror having taken complete control. Unable to reach the Force, and his mind locked to him by the pain and shock-preventing drugs, he felt the last shreds of his dignity die.

“Oh! Hear him?” the auctioneer crowed. “What did I  _ tell _ you my dear customers!”

If he'd been unbound, Relann might have sprung for that man, beaten though he might be. Fingernails. Teeth. Bare fists. Whatever it took to get  _ away _ from him.

The merciless eyes stepped closer to him.

_ Don't respond. Don't react. Hold completely still. Empty mask. Clear your face— _

She seized the length of him.

Shock.

He heard his choked whimper. Felt his face flood with utter humiliation.

Felt his soul break.

Squeezing his eyes shut couldn't prevent the tears from escaping.

A lifetime later, she left him.

He heard the auctioneer's fevered pitch for the final sale.

The sale of his body and soul.

Before it was completed, he was hauled from the arena.

He was taken to a med wing. It wouldn't do to sell damaged goods.

He saw the bacta tank.

Knew that by the time he came out, there would be no sign of the flogging he'd received.

Nothing physical to show the pain that had been inflicted.

The scars of the arena would be left on his soul alone.

Another injector knocked him out.

 

* * *

 

Relann drew in a breath.

Murky.

His mind wasn't working.

He tried to move, couldn't.

Blinked.

Tried to remember, tried to—

Reds. Purples.

Tried to raise his left arm. Found it was bound.

He rolled his right ankle.

Also secured.

The surface behind his back was soft.

And gravity wasn't pulling at him...

So he was lying on his back.

_ On a bed. _

Clarity shot through his mind like a blaster bolt.

He could sense the Force.

Oh,  _ thank _ — 

He had no clothes.

_ No. No. _

“Master Kynd.”

A purring female voice.

_ No. _

“I've been waiting for you.”

“Where am I?” His voice felt unused. There was no sign of wounds on his back. He'd been in bacta awhile, then.

“Home. Your new home.”

Force.  _ Force _ . “What do you want from me?”

“I want a child, Master Kynd. A Force-sensitive child.”

_ No! _

“I'm afraid you may have been misled.” He forced his voice to be calm. Forced it to be polite. “I cannot guarantee such a thing. It doesn't  _ work _ that way. The likelihood is that any child of mine would  _ not _ be—”

“Then we'll try until I get one.”

She came into view, crawling towards him from the foot of the bed.

Panic flooded his veins. He seized her in the Force and threw her backwards. Yanking at the cuff holding his right hand both physically and in the Force—

He screamed as electricity bathed his body. Mind shattered, he lay back, gasping when it left him.

“You shouldn't have done that.”

She was coming back.

And he couldn't do anything physically.

He reached her through the Force, lifted her in the air.

“You won't touch me,” he snarled. “You're going to let me go.”

A screen, above the foot of the bed lit up, catching his gaze away from the eyes of the almost-naked woman. Who was human. And looked about comparable to himself in age.

And who had  _ bought _ him.

He wanted to throw her through the closest wall and run and never stop running—

It took a moment for him to make sense of the screen's contents.

A sharp crack, and a blaster bolt blew out the face of a woman dressed in tatters. Her body slumped from her kneeling position to the ground.

“Mistress?” the man holding the blaster asked.

“You can see the predicament I'm in,” the woman in the air mourned. “So I suppose you must keep at it.”

Another ragged individual, this an old man, was driven to his knees.

“Wait—  _ wait _ —” Relann yelped. “What?”

“It's simple, really.”

A bolt through the old man's head.

Horrified, Relann let go of his hold on the woman. “ _ Stop! _ ”

The next person was forced to her knees, but the blaster remained pointed in the air.

“Things work in a very clean way here.” The woman was back on the bed between his knees. “Resist me, disobey me, try to hurt me or use your Force powers against me in any way, and people die. And before you decide they're worthless, perhaps you should take into mind that they are a tiny handful of my thousands of slaves. I won't miss them. I suppose the people who love them— if there _ are  _ such people— might, but hm.”

“They are dead because I fought you?” Relann clarified, horror suffusing his voice.

“I'm afraid so. Will you submit, or do we have to play this game some more?”

Relann stared at the slave on her knees.

She couldn't be much over twenty. The dirt had made her look older. She was struggling to not look at the two corpses, silent tears streaking down her face.

Relann's heart shattered.

Behind the young woman was—

Force, no. No.

A little boy. Maybe four years old.

“Don't hurt them,” he whispered. “Whatever you do, don't—”

“You won't resist me, then?” she murmured, slinking closer.

Everything in him screamed against her, demanded he fight to the bitter end, get  _ out _ of here or die trying—

But the line of slaves continued on out of the cam's view.

He knew the screen hadn't been lying. He'd sensed the brutal, merciless deaths.

And even now, if he reached out...

He could sense the quivering terror. The suspense. The dread.

The faintest, tiniest hope.

The hope destroyed him.

She hadn't warned him she'd kill them, she'd just started. This wasn't a woman of bluffs. He could  _ sense _ it, not just see it. She  _ would _ kill them. She knew it. He knew it. Those slaves knew it.

And if he obeyed her...

She would spare them.

She knew it.

He knew it.

The slaves knew it.

And that's where the hope came in.

“Now that I have your cooperation, I'm going to turn that screen off. I trust your Force senses are sharp enough to be able to feel the deaths if you displease me. My guards work in shifts; we cycle through slaves, changing the pool... so there are always men at hand, waiting to kill, and always slaves at hand, ready to  _ be _ killed. You will not catch me at any point without that right behind me. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The screen went off.

“They had you drugged so you couldn't touch the Force,” she said. “I didn't want to do that to such a magnificent creature. It's  _ wrong _ . It would be like taking your eyes or your tongue.”

“Why do you want a Force-sensitive child?” Relann asked, knowing his only hope was to negotiate. He had no idea where those slaves were being kept, and who knew how many would die if he tried to fight his way to find them.

He needed to wait. Violence would have to wait.

But maybe he could talk his way out of this.

“The prestige. I wouldn't turn it over to the Jedi Order, you understand. I would raise it here with me. A son, or a daughter who can manipulate the Force— what a statement! The prestige.”

“You're serious about trying more than once,” he realized in horror.

She nodded. “I can be patient, Master Jedi. I don't  _ need _ your cooperation. If you force me, I will use drugs, electricity, whatever it takes to bring you to heel. But people will die.  _ Many  _ people will die. Do not think I will run out of slaves; I can easily purchase hundreds more  _ just for this purpose _ .”

No. No. No. She couldn't do this. She couldn't—

She moved over him.

He felt his body respond.

Shame destroyed him. He didn't want this, but his body wasn't paying any attention to his mind.

“No, please,” he begged, discarding dignity in a heartbeat. “I'm in love. There's a woman. Please don't do this to me. Please don't do this to  _ her _ —”

“Do you really think I care?” She shook her head. “I want children sired by you until I end up with a Force-sensitive one.”

_ Kill me. Please. Let me die. _

Hormones coursed through his blood, urging him to give in.

Everything he was and ever hoped to be loathed the sensation and recoiled.

“If you die, I will immediately kill two hundred slaves. I don't care if what got you was murder, suicide, or just giving up and suffocating.”

In disbelief he glared up into her eyes. “ _ Why _ ? You'd have lost me anyway.”

“Spite. I'm a bit vengeful like that.”

Force. She'd do it to. He could sense it.

“The doctors I have on hand are experienced with Force-users.  _ If _ you try any tricks to keep me from pregnancies, they  _ will  _ be able to tell. There will be consequences. For  _ others _ .”

Hell.

He was in hell.

“Master Kynd. They're waiting. They're waiting to see if you're going to sign their death warrants. Oh, yes. They know what's happening. Can't you hear their desperate, terrified prayers? Begging you to have mercy?”

“You're asking me to betray my Code, my love, my  _ very self _ —”

“I'm not  _ asking _ . I'm demanding you sacrifice yourself for the innocent. Isn't that your  _ job _ ?”

She lay against his chest.

Sudden tears burned his eyes.

No.

_ No _ .

The terrified eyes of the young woman, still kneeling, wondering if he would put a bolt through her brain destroyed his soul, dragging sudden tears to his eyes.

“I've never— before—”

“I know,” she hummed, stroking his face, his neck, his chest.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to strike her through the Force and flee.

“You are going to give me a child.”

“How can I condemn a child to  _ you _ ?”

“Hmm. How can you  _ not _ ?”

Relann's soul retreated as deeply into himself as it could hide.

Survive. He had to turn his mind off.

Just endure.

For the sake of that girl. That boy. The others in the line stretching out behind them.

_ You will  _ not  _ die because of me. _

“You might enjoy it,” she purred.

He wanted to slaughter her, then cleanse himself with fire. Forget running away. He needed to  _ kill _ her.

Instead, he lay still as she relieved herself of the last of her clothes.

Rolling his head to the side, he refused to look at her.

Here it was.

Face burning, soul dying, he desperately wished for the flogging from the auction. If only he'd been sold to someone with a grudge against the Jedi, who wanted to torture him day after day—

She settled herself on him. Settled him  _ in _ her.

And...

He allowed it.

Force, he  _ allowed _ it.

Thought shattered, fled, sensation replacing it as she worked him.

He lay still beneath her, tears staining the mattress as he gasped for air.

So this is what people meant.

Force—  _ Force _ —

Why hadn't they warned him how terrible it would be? Why did people speak of this so fondly? Why did they  _ lie _ ?

Electricity seized him originating from the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, driving every sensation from his mind except agony. He thrashed against it, crying out, unable to string two thoughts together.

Panting as it released him, he heard his tormentor's delighted moans. “That,” she said, her voice breathy, “was to make sure you weren't holding back on me. To make sure you impregnate me.” She rocked against him, head snapping back. “I didn't realize how much  _ fun _ it would be—”

He shuddered, his body recovering from the ravage of pain enough to feel her warm depth's caress once again.

He couldn't look at her. The arched back, the sleek skin, parted mouth—

He wanted to vomit.

But closing his eyes couldn't protect him from sensing her satisfaction when she pulled away from him.

He couldn't roll over, couldn't move away. How desperately he wished he could.

Metallic feet striking the floor yanked his eyelids open again and he twisted his head around to see where they originated.

A medical droid.

Scanning the woman.

Relann didn't even know her name.

“Well!” she crowed, turning to face him again. “Well done. Time for you to sleep now.”

He jerked his head away from her caressing fingers as he felt the droid jab an injector into his arm.

Glaring his hate, staring his revulsion into her eyes even as reality blurred and fled, he hoped she could feel just a  _ hint _ of what he wanted to do to her.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

When he woke up, he knew  _ exactly _ where he was.

And according to his muscles, he hadn't moved.

At all.

They also felt exercised. Probably the meddroid had used electropulse therapy on him.

Wouldn't want him to lose his tone, oh no. Wouldn't want  _ that _ .

He felt light hunger, but reaching into the Force, he knew that his body had the nutrients needed.

He felt thirst, but no hint of dehydration.

Hypos.

No sleep, no food, no drink, no exercise.

When he'd first realized he was headed for slavery, he hadn't realized  _ this _ is what it meant.

This wasn't life.

He was a  _ toy _ put in a box when not being used. A—

He caught sight of her.

Clothed, thank the  _ Force— _

He focused—

He himself was wearing a short loinskirt.

The first moment of relief in a long time.

His body felt clean. His gut tightened as he realized it meant someone had been handling him after he'd been knocked out. He wasn't even allowed to clean  _ himself. _

There was something different about the tormentress, and not just the loud red dress that showed off every curve.

She was—

He stared at her stomach.

“How long have I been out?” he demanded in horror.

She laughed, a silvery, musical sound that grated on his nerves like a screech. “We were together last night. My doctors have sped up the pregnancy. It will be born soon.”

_ Sped up _ ? She looked  _ months  _ along. How was her body coping? How was the... the baby's?

_ My baby. My child. _

The thought nearly broke him.

_ What have I done to you? _

“In the meantime, I woke you up to show you something.” The screen above lit up, and he saw ten individuals, clearly slaves, being herded towards a building.

He recognized the young woman and the little boy. Hand-in-hand, their faces showed their confusion and fear.

“I gave you what you wanted, I didn't resist you—” he protested, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

The building came into focus.

He had never worked against slavery personally, but he  _ knew _ that place.

It was Alderaan Rescue and Rehabilitation.

The ten slaves seemed to recognize it too. The dread turned to shocked confusion, and from there to a flaring hope he could sense even through the recording.

“What did you do to them?” he snarled, ready to kill her on the spot. He'd  _ submitted _ . He'd  _ obeyed— _

“I can kill them without feeling it. Losing them to freedom is no greater hardship. The young woman and her son? They're free. Starting a life of their own. Here is the official statement from ARR.”

The screen's contents changed, revealing the initial report.

Ten individuals turned over by an anonymous courier, carrying no infectious diseases and in fairly standard shape for medium-labor slaves.

Bewildered but adapting to the situation well.

It continued on, each word capturing Relann's attention far more swiftly than the dress had.

“You're lying. It's false.” It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. It was a very elaborate ruse, but  _ why _ —

“Why would I bother?”

He hated the fact he could sense the clear honesty of her tone.

“Do you remember the auction?”

Panic constricted his throat.

Did he  _ remember _ ? He could  _ smell _ it,  _ taste _ it,  _ see _ it—

“Do you have any idea what the life of the usual slave is?”

It wasn't his area of expertise, but he could... imagine...

“Last night you saved ten of them from that. They are safe, being cared for, watched over; they will receive education and help in starting out on whatever life they choose to make for themselves.”

He reached out to the Force, tried to find the fear he'd felt last night.

He couldn't find the young woman or the boy. They weren't close by anymore. In fact, none of the people he'd felt last time remained.

In their place?

Oh, there was fear still.

But in  _ these _ individuals?

Their hope wasn't a tiny, terrified gasp.

It was stronger.

_ They've been told what happened to the first group. _

“For each week of exemplary behavior, I will release ten more slaves, chosen from the pool I will kill if you displease me. After a month without incident, I will set free an extra twenty on top of that, and if you continue to please me through continuing months, I will expand the bonus number month to month. The longer you please me, the more find lives of their own. All delivered to ARR's doorstep, unless you wish to specify a  _ different _ agency. You can pick that. No strings attached, they are  _ free _ . Permanently."

“Why?” he demanded in horror. Was she  _ serious _ ? In the Force she  _ screamed _ serious. It terrified him.

“I'm not here to make you miserable. I have no grudge against you. All I'm interested in is you pleasing me. Jedi are only happy when they're helping people, yes? Well now you can help people by pleasing me. I'm happy, you're fulfilling your calling, and we can move on.”

“You think I could be  _ happy  _ while caged by you?” he demanded with venom.

She gave him a condescending glance. “I didn't say  _ happy _ . I said  _ productive _ . Or aren't these poor souls worth it? Is your own preference and pride more important than their lives and happiness? Reach out. Sense. Do your Force stuff. Surely you can feel them.”

He widened his scan in the Force and discovered the entire place, this vast, sprawling estate, was  _ full _ of hope springing to life. 

It staggered him.

Any of them could be caught up to be freed.

They had a Jedi in their midst, and he was rescuing them, one by one.

He was  _ saving _ them.

The impression was so thick, so wide-spread that he could sense those details even though his gift wasn't telempathy.

He  _ knew _ .

Hundreds, hundreds of voices in the Force...

He shivered.

Those voices were eroding at his will to plan an escape. He couldn't risk them.

He sank himself deep into the Force, trying to find the ten this woman  _ claimed _ were free.

He caught vague whispers of them in the Force. Their disbelieving delight.

The tears of joy.

Their gratitude towards him.

A mother whispering to her child words about a man who gave himself over to the worst of fates to save him. To save  _ them _ . Commanding the boy to pray for the Jedi every night.  _ Every night _ to thank him for his selfless bravery.

She  _ knew _ what it was costing him.

No.

_ No _ .

It had been easier when he'd assumed this woman had  _ killed _ them and faked this result. It—

_ Jedi don't give up. _

He'd been used. He had no idea how to face his life when he finally won it back.

But he was  _ going _ to get it.

Suicide wasn't the Jedi way, and neither was abandoning others to suffer for one's own escape.

Escape.

Yes.

It would have to be on a massive scale.

He was going to overthrow this woman.

He just had to watch, wait, endure until he had enough knowledge, enough—

_ No. No! _

He couldn't risk them.

He needed help from the outside. He needed someone  _ else _ to run the recon. To do the planning.

He needed Jor'soran.

Fortunately, as soon as it was decided that he was missing, she would come looking for him, and she wouldn't be dissuaded by suggestions of a fatal mishap. She wouldn't stop until she'd found  _ him _ .

An injector bit into him once more, sweeping awareness from his mind.

 

* * *

 

He awoke to an unfamiliar sound.

An infant's cries.

His heart leapt into his throat.

That wasn't—

It couldn't be—

“You disappoint me.” The cold, annoyed tone of  _ her _ voice cut into Relann's brain, causing pain, bringing dread. “She isn't Force sensitive.”

_ She _ .

Relann turned his head, searching the room.

A droid was holding a bundle, but he couldn't see—

“We'll just have to try again.”

He could  _ sense _ her. A tiny flare of light, a candle amidst the horror of this place. Something so pure, so beautiful—

Tears flooded his eyes.

_ I brought you into this. I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive me, if you can. _

“What are you going to do with her?”

“Kill her.”

The casual words nearly choked him with panic. “She's your  _ daughter _ !”

“No. She's not. She's an unfortunate waste of time on my path to what I need to achieve. If she's anybody's daughter, she's  _ yours _ , since you seem to be the only one who  _ wants _ her.”

“You're really going to _ kill _ her?” He desperately searched the woman's Force-signature, but couldn't find any hint of a bluff.

The baby was screaming.

He could sense its discomfort, its fear.

It wanted, needed a parent, needed love. Needed—

His heart responded.

“Please.  _ Please _ don't kill her,” he murmured.

Yes.

He was begging.

But dignity was so dead, left mutilated so many kilometers back it didn't even hurt. Did he have any pride left?

This life, this beautiful,  _ precious _ life—

He couldn't let it be crushed. She hadn't done  _ anything _ to deserve that.

He'd brought her here. He  _ had  _ to protect her. He was all she  _ had— _

And more than that.

He  _ loved _ her.

How could he  _ love _ her? He'd only sensed her all of two minutes—

“What do you have that I would want?” the woman demanded. “What can you offer me in exchange for her life?”

“What is it you want?” he asked back. She already had his life, his body, his future, his  _ soul _ —

“Your word. That you will not try to escape, die, or call for help. That you will deflect any inquiries made by the Order, rejecting their help, telling them you're not interested. That you will stand by my side wherever I choose to take you. Also, you will not try to harm any of my people or guests in any way, and you will throw yourself into pleasing me. Not passively allow, but  _ participate _ in any way I direct.”

He stared at her in shock. “You want my  _ will to live _ in exchange for her life?”

“Too high a price?” she asked, tone careless. “It's easy to dispose of a body that small.”

Fear, raw and horrible clawed open his heart.

Betray himself, or let his daughter die.

The answer was horrifyingly simple.

“ _ Fine _ . Yes. You have my word.”

“Swear on your Masterhood, on the Force, that it will hold you accountable should you break your promise.”

“I swear it, on the Force, may it hold me accountable.”

Being a Jedi didn't mean being fully honest. It meant doing the right thing.

And getting out of here, along with everyone else trapped, was absolutely  _ right _ .

Lying to get there was just fine.

He would have to... obey her... in the meantime, however.

_ That _ was terrible enough.

_ How can I? _

How could he  _ not _ .

“You're lying. But here. Let me give you just a little incentive. I'm just a little bit paranoid and a  _ lot _ bit narcissistic. If I so much as suspect that you might be rethinking your promise, or looking too hard at how many doorways are lining a hall or I catch you where I think you shouldn't be? If I get the tiniest gut feeling that something is amiss, whether I have proof or  _ no _ , and if I so much as  _ wonder  _ if you are trying to use the Force to manipulate me or any of my people? If I so much as suspect the Jedi are interested in me, or looking for you, or even on this  _ planet _ , your daughter  _ dies _ . No discussion, no warning. I will not tell you first. Her body will be dropped at your feet, and  _ that _ will be your first inkling that I don't buy your loyalty.”

Feeling the truth behind her words, his soul chilled.

No.

He  _ couldn't _ play with that little life.

He could call to Kelasar in the Force, but there was no way to send his former apprentice a clear message.

And knowing him? He would come barging in.

The thought of this tiny flicker of beauty being snuffed out because of her father's desire for his own well-being drove a knife deep into his will.

It lived.

But it was bleeding.

Jor'soran.

His only hope was Jor'soran.

She could take this woman by surprise.  _ She _ could plan, figure out a way to get them all out of here without his daughter dying.

She had to.

It was going to take all his focus to keep the boat from rocking too much.

_ That _ was his first duty.

Two days ago, his sole loyalty was to the galaxy. His biggest, most important goal was to escape so he could serve it again.

He was a father now. His responsibilities had shifted.

The galaxy had to wait.

This  _ child _ was his most important trust.

And everything he did had to keep her safe.

Even if that meant surrendering his very Jedihood.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” He met that horrible gaze, for the first time unflinching.

He had his dignity back.

Suddenly, his suffering, his humiliation was no longer pointless.

He would endure  _ anything _ to stand between death and that child.

He had purpose again.

“What is her name?” he asked, the words controlled, calm.

Yes. Dignified.

He was bound to a bed, reduced to nothing more than a sire and a pleasure slave, but he had dignity back.

That precious infant had given it to him.

“You really think I  _ named _ her?” the woman laughed. “No. You can do that. I won't even demand anything in return. In fact, you can hold her. I'll give you ten minutes, then you're going to your room, and she's going  _ somewhere _ else. Close, but she's not staying with you.”

Of course not.  _ That _ would be tempting him too much.

Movement alerted him to another person in the room.

A young woman, releasing his hands, his feet. Everything had been so massive, he hadn't noticed her presence. He reached out to her in the Force, discovered—

_ Admiration. _ It was pouring off her in waves. And pity. And a fierce hope.

That was fixed on  _ him. _

Force. Oh, Force.

What a hell.

Where escape might dash these cautious, newborn dreams.

Wasn't it better to postpone his own well-being in order to seek  _ theirs _ ?

Couldn't he wait to fight for his freedom, at least until she had been released and was safe?

Oh, he could see the insidious nature of the trap.

That didn't mean what was right was a clear and easy path.

At the moment, his path was lit by a flashing red light, traumatic to the mind with dread numbing the soul.

But the baby was at the end of the tunnel.

And not just her. He wasn't ignoring the needs of the defenseless around him in order to protect his child.

He sat up, rubbing his wrists, eye-contact with the slave burning his retinas. He read so much emotion there. A thank-you so loud it shook him to his very core.

How could he endure this, even for a short time? How could—

All those thoughts fled as the droid stepped closer and placed the bundle in his arms, and he looked down into the face of his daughter.

Tears blinded him, catching him by surprise, falling onto the tiny cheek.

So small. So vulnerable.

He touched her balled fist, the soft head.

_ I love you. _

Loved her  _ desperately _ .

His hatred for her mother didn't taint what he felt for the baby. This little glimmer of beauty was the only one  _ not _ responsible for this hell. His one glimmer of light in a darkness engulfing him, threatening to obliterate him and leave him an empty, broken shell.

“Glimmer.”

“Her name?”

“Yes.”

“Glimmer it is, then.”

His ten minutes were up far too soon.

He sat still as the droid took her away, using every ounce of his self-control to not tear after it and reclaim Glimmer. Refuse to let her go.

The slave girl was following, and at the door she looked back at him.

Unashamed, his eyes pleaded with her.  _ Look out for her. If you feel any gratitude towards me at all, take care of her. _

Understanding in her eyes, she sent him a nod, and then they were gone.

“I have a room set up for you, a place where you can be by yourself. It has a refresher, and you will be allowed to wash yourself and choose your clothes, unless I specify what I want you wearing.”

“Yes,” he answered, forcing himself to look up into her face.

“You will call me Mistress.”

A slight pause prompting him, he gave her what she wanted. The words tasted vile, but Glimmer's soul was balm enough to ease the burn of freedoms lost. “Yes, Mistress.”

“The doctors all agree I can't try again for four weeks. You'll have to entertain me through then; I will tell you how. I have business to attend to, so you will be free this evening. I will be sending for you early tomorrow morning, so you may want to spend your time sleeping, but it's up to you.”

Handing him choices.

Oh, she was good at what she did.

This place was too horrible to the Jedi for him to be lulled into a form of contentment, but he could see how her system angled towards that end.

He wasn't here to be tortured.

And yes.

If he was somewhat resigned and calm, with things to look forward to, he  _ would _ be more likely to please her than if everything was begrudging.

It deepened his hate.

_ No. _

If he couldn't be a Jedi in anything else, he  _ wasn't _ giving that up. He would  _ not  _ turn to the comfort of darkness, even if fatherhood had destroyed his original plan for his life.

Glimmer had to come first from here on out. He could no longer serve with a solitary focus.

_ But _ he'd been given something else. They hadn't stolen his future and left him with  _ nothing _ .

Oh, this place. What a well put together, terrible, terrible place.

But he  _ walked _ down the hall, around a corner, down another hall to his room.

_ Unbound _ .

_ Undrugged _ .

Connected to the Force.

His daughter was  _ alive _ , and he could  _ keep  _ her that way.

Slaves were gaining hope, after lifetimes of hopelessness, and  _ ten were free _ and in the best of hands.

And...

Next week, whether a plan for his personal escape had been worked on or not, ten  _ more _ .

And two weeks after that...

It would be a total of  _ sixty _ individuals who gained life.

Sixty lives for a month of submission.

How could that be anything  _ but _ worth it?

And if he could last longer...

It would grow.

_ More  _ than sixty a month.

No wonder the estate was buzzing with anticipation.

_ They're all thinking it could be  _ them _ next week, or their loved ones. _

And they were right.

The door closed behind him. Locked.

Alone, he looked around.

The room was spacious; he'd have plenty of space to exercise. That was probably part of the plan. A large mat could serve as a tumble area, and was definitely meant for sleeping on. No windows. The controls for the lighting— set low in the walls near the floor— were by the door. A low rack stood against the back wall, and from it hung...

So that's what she'd meant by  _ clothes _ .

There was another loinskirt like the one he wore, which hit a little lower than mid-thigh. Some of the other skimpy garments he knew the names of, and the rest he had no desire to  _ learn _ the names for.

The loinskirt was the most concealing thing in his wardrobe.

Thankful Kelasar couldn't see him now, he turned left and moved into the refresher.

It didn't have a door. Inside, a large shower. Beside it, a large bath. Fluffy towels and fancy, expensive soaps and shampoos were lined across shelves.

And a mirror.

Inconveniently placed so that anyone in the main area would be able to see  _ into _ the shower.

Not that he'd really  _ expected _ privacy, the  _ Mistress _ seemed to have never been introduced to the concept.

The rest of the furnishings in the refresher were standard, and deserved only a cursory glance.

He was tired. Oh, so tired.

That was the thing about drugging.

It didn't  _ rest _ you.

He curled up on the floor mat, closing his eyes and trying to find his calm center.

It wasn't there.

All he found was a jittery unease. What would  _ she _ make him do tomorrow?

Would he be allowed to see Glimmer?

_ How _ would he convince the Order to leave him alone without actually being able to  _ tell  _ them about Glimmer?

He fell asleep with no answers to his questions.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been ready for months, but I kept going back and forth as to whether I wanted to just give up and have it be Obi-Wan and Anakin set in the Old Republic. That's what this was, originally, and as I was polishing this bit I was missing that.
> 
> So I went through and switched the names and certain little details, even though we'd be shifting gears mid-story. Which was fine. Until I got to Obi-Wan/Relann's love interest, and remembered she's completely different from Satine even with the original similarities. Well, kark.
> 
> So I had to go back through and switch the names again. Oh, yes. Hopefully I caught them all. If not... there might be a few stray Obi-Wan's or Anakin's in there.

 

Relann awoke to the sound of his door sliding open. A droid walked in, hypos in hand.

He stood, allowed it to inject nutrients and fluids.

Apparently he wasn't going to be allowed to eat or drink.

It shaved his face. Under his arms. Gestured for him to remove the loinskirt.

Evidently the  _ Mistress _ didn't want hair anywhere.

Gritting his teeth he obeyed, and the droid shaved there too.

Replacing the meager covering before obeying the sweeping wave aimed for the door, Relann tried to find his calm center.

It was still missing.

Maybe the Mistress would have pressing business to attend to elsewhere... maybe...

He retraced his steps from the night before, the droid accompanying him.

He found her lounged on her bed. In the Force she felt annoyed. Deeply annoyed.

She  _ sounded _ it too, when the door slid shut, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

“Apparently, when my doctors said I couldn't try again for four weeks, they meant I couldn't do  _ anything _ for four weeks.” Her voice shifted into a mocking impersonation. “In order to heal, I mustn't let anything intrude. Not tongue, not fingers,  _ certainly _ not—”

Relief spilled across his face and she saw it.

Kark.

Interrupting herself, she snarled. “I'll just have to think of something else. I  _ was _ going to teach you foreplay, but there's no point in  _ torturing _ myself. I  _ tried  _ to reason with them about fingers and tongue. They were adamant.”

She snapped her fingers—

Relann heard the door behind him open again, and he turned to look—

And had a heart attack.

_ Kelasar. _

It—  _ wasn't  _ Kelasar. In the Force, a very  _ different  _ individual and  _ definitely  _ not Force-sensitive stood there, but he looked  _ just like  _ him—

The man's eyes met his with a quiet knowledge of who Relann was—

And then the farce moved near the bed and knelt before Mistress Evil Incarnate.

“Let me look at you,” she directed, reaching out and grabbing Not-Kelasar's chin, turning his head and inspecting every angle.

Relann tried to hide the dismay rapidly building inside himself. He couldn't find a way in which this was a  _ good _ turn of events—

“Kelasar is here to entertain me by pleasuring you,” the Mistress announced.

The floor fell out from under Relann's feet. “ _ What _ ?”

The false Kelasar stood, turning to face Relann.

Panic seized the Jedi. “ _ Please, _ ” he whispered. “This has nothing to do with your project—”

“I am  _ bored, _ you belong to me, and that's reason enough.”

“But I'm not attracted to him.” Did she have  _ any  _ humanity in there, anywhere? Why couldn't she be  _ jealous  _ of him? “I've never been attracted to men—”

“So?”  
In desperation he searched “Kelasar's” eyes, but he wasn't going to find help there.

Although he read pity, this man was  _ not  _ going to argue with the woman who held his life in her hands.

Kelasar stepped close.

“Please, if I must, at least let it be someone who  _ doesn't  _ look like my  _ Padawan— _ ”

“Come now,” the woman chided. “My surgeons went to great lengths to achieve this goal. What kind of a request is that?”

“I do not  _ see  _ him this way—”

“Well, as you said, this  _ isn't  _ him.”

“Then why  _ call  _ him—”

“Call it a personal fantasy of mine and resign it as one of the universe's great mysteries. Kelasar, pin him to the wall and kiss him senseless.”

The man didn't say a word, but he stepped forward with the grace of a dancer.

Relann backed away to escape, was going to hit the door, turned a little and fled, still backwards, until his shoulder blades hit the wall.

The man who looked like his Padawan planted a hand against the wall, and cradled his head with the other.

“Please no,” Relann begged, his heart thundering in his ears and terror clawing his throat.

Lips covered his.

Kelasar thought of Jor'soran. Of how desperately Jor'soran had wanted to kiss him, of all the times he'd kissed her hand instead—

And now his mouth was being invaded against his will.

This wasn't how he'd wanted to learn how to kiss.

And—

“Kelasar” released his tongue, studying his face, his eyes, like a  _ lover  _ might—

Relann glared up at him,  _ hating  _ the farce—

“Well done,” their Mistress cooed. “Feeling all warm inside. Kelasar, be gentle with him. Bring him to the floor in front of me, and take care of him. You are a Jedi, and he is your world. He trained you, protected you, and now it's time to show your appreciation.”

“I would appreciate it more if—”

“And  _ you  _ will remain silent.” The Mistress' voice turned cold. “He will worship you with his hands, and unlike the arena, you're going to enjoy it.”

Gentle hands drew Relann away from the wall, feet edging him forward. Eyes tried to meet his but he refused to allow it.

_ You're raping me. You can stop pretending to care. _

The sooner, the better.

Relann's face twisted and a sob caught in his throat as the false Kelasar's fingers found the latch holding the loinskirt.

Lips touched his again, and he pulled his head away.

“Now, Relann,” Mistress chided, “do we need to remind you again why resisting isn't—”

“No,” he whispered. He was shaking. He could feel it in his hands, in his knees—

He wanted to pray for death, but he didn't dare leave Glimmer alone in this hell.

Strong arms gathered him close, caught him up—

His eyes flew open in horror as his feet left the ground—

Only to find “Kelasar” staring down into his eyes, like he had some kind of right to see love there.

Anger burned in Relann's soul, something akin to hatred, but as the false Kelasar kissed him again, Relann submitted. It was all he could do to allow it, to hold himself back from trying to bite off the invasive tongue, or maybe the lower lip, to sink teeth so deep they met through the middle— to do so much damage that he wouldn't be touched again by this man—

He poured all his willpower into keeping his jaws open and passive.

He hissed as his back was pressed against the cold stonework of the floor. The man who looked like his best friend stretched over him, moving with languid care.

Fingers tangled with his, and Relann found kisses being pressed to each one, then his palm, his wrist—

He closed his eyes again, not wanting to have to see the eyes of  _ either  _ of them— Mistress, with her open hunger, or  _ him _ , with that questioning,  _ asking  _ look. He  _ wanted  _ something from Relann, and he was looking for it.

Relann shuddered at the thought.  _ He's likely to get whatever it is he wants. _

Hands traveled lower, finally leaving Relann's face and chest alone. Relann felt very little relief over it, given how close they were getting to—

For the third time he felt his body betray him. It almost felt as if it no longer belonged to him, as if he were trapped in something filthy and  _ hated.  _ Silent tears escaped his tightly clenched eyelids as he tried to still his breathing and failed.

The hands should have gone away the instant it was over.

They didn't.

“Look at how shaken he is,” Mistress crooned. “He needs you to reassure him of your love, Kelasar. He's afraid.”

The return of gentle lips against his, worshipful fingers down his shoulder and arm.

“I have to accept calls today. The people coming are dreadfully dull. I will want the two of you to stand near me so I can keep my mind busy. Light blue, I think, Kelasar.”

“As you wish.”  
“As pale a blue as you can find.”  
And then the body was pulled away from Relann's, and “Kelasar” gave a light bow to the woman in charge. And then he held out a hand to help Relann to his feet.

The Jedi pretended not to see it, scrambling to his own feet and backing away three short steps, gaze snapping to his abandoned garment. He stretched his hand out, called it to him—

Fingers like durasteel wrapped around his wrist, causing pain. He looked up into  _ her  _ eyes.

“What I'm going to want from the two of you is simple. First, clean up. Second, get dressed in whatever Kelasar lays out for you. Third, he will bring you to join me in my audience chamber. You will sit or stand looking scrumptious, depending on which I choose at any given moment, and either Kelasar or myself will be petting you all the time. Understood? You're there to make my guests envious.”  
“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, eyes averted.

“Off you go!”  
Relann was out the door almost before it opened, Kelasar right on his heels.

When he stepped foot into his own room, Relann's heart stopped cold.

Where there had been one rack of clothes...

Now there were two. With matching attire.

He spun around, nearly crashing into Kelasar's bare chest. “Tell me you are  _ not  _ staying  _ here— _ ”

Violet eyes widened. “I have nowhere else to stay—”

_ Sweet  _ Force  _ he even  _ sounds  _ like him! _

“Where did you live  _ before  _ you became my accessory?”

The slave's eyelids shuddered as if trying to prevent thrown sand from getting in his eyes. Ignoring the question, he stepped around Relann and moved to the racks. “She won't wait for long. If you want a shower, you'll need to take it now.”

“Will you  _ leave _ ?”  
“No. I have to change.”

Relann grit his teeth. “Then at least have the decency to look away.”  
Violet eyes found his again, a strange mixture of compassion and reproach within them before they turned back to his task. Pulling fluttery blue garments from the restraining clips, he held out one to Relann.

The Jedi walked over to take it. “How am I supposed to put it on?” he demanded.

“Are you... asking for help?” Kelasar asked.

“ _ No,  _ just  _ tell  _ me!”

Kelasar shook out the fabric. “Leg through here. Arm through there.”

“Oh—  _ oh.  _ Alright.” Relann snatched the skimpy thing from the proffering hand and stormed into the refresher.

Purple eyes followed, then shifted away almost guiltily as their owner remembered the other's request.

 

* * *

 

Relann didn't know if he'd been watched or not. Given what had already happened, he wasn't sure it really mattered, but it  _ felt  _ like it did. He returned to the main area to find Kelasar already...  _ dressed... _ if the word could be so mangled.

“Ready?” his Not-Padawan asked.

He shrugged, stomping for the door.

“That will make your ankles hurt,” Kelasar cautioned.

Relann grit his teeth. “And  _ why  _ should I care?”  
The other man didn't offer an answer. He just bowed his head and led the way from the room.

It didn't take long before Relann found himself reclining on the floor by Mistress' chair, her fingers buried in his hair.

Worse was the farce of Kelasar. Relann was expected to lean against him with an easy familiarity, a lie of appearances, the claim of love and trust.

He did it.

And when the Mistress took to finger-feeding him bits of fruit, he submitted.

The stream of guests through the day seemed interminable. They just kept coming and coming...

“This? This is Jedi Master Relann Kynd,” was the response time after time. “Come, darling. Prove it.”

So again and again Relann would levitate something away from the callers.

_ Frip all of you. _

His skills amounted to more than parlor tricks.

They  _ did. _

For a time she made him sit in her chair so she could lounge across his lap.

And then, as the day dragged long, she made him lie beside Kelasar, the younger man having orders to tease.

That was the worst yet. “Kelasar” pressed kisses to his throat, and a gentle press of closed teeth. Not a bite enough to leave bruises, but sending shivers down Relann's spine all the same. Metal fingers rested on Relann's hip, straying lower to hide beneath the fabric—

Relann could feel visitors' eyes on them, their attraction and curiosity. He couldn't bear to look up at any of them.  _ Especially  _ since his “clothing” did little to hide his erection, or Not-Kelasar's lightly nudging fingers.

When the younger man  _ wasn't  _ touching his cock, his hand rested low on Relann's stomach. Too low for  _ anyone  _ to ignore, least of all Relann. For an uncomfortable set of minutes “Kelasar” even lightly caressed his ass, almost massaging the muscle there, hand splayed possessively, all his attention focused on driving Relann mad.

Relann might be submitting, but his misery embittered his face, clear to every person who walked through the door.

When released for the evening, Relann wanted to throttle the man who had all three of them terribly aroused.

“May I see Glimmer?” he asked as the woman— her name was Malare, he'd discovered from listening today— turned to leave.

Her eyes widened. “No. That is a privilege, Jedi-mine. If you want it, you're going to have to do more than just  _ exactly  _ what you've been asked to do.” 

With that, she swept from the room.

Relann clenched his fists by his sides, drew in a deep breath, and then went back to his room.

What  _ used  _ to be  _ his _ room.

Kelasar was a mere half-step behind him, and as soon as the door closed behind them, the younger man fled to the refresher and shower.

For several long moments Relann couldn't move. He just stood there, staring at the sparse area, wondering how many nights he would be trapped here.

A quiet grunt caught Relann's attention without asking his will for permission, and then he was wishing he could burn his eyes out.

Kelasar, sagging against the wall, no longer painfully aroused from the day's cruelties, eyes glassy, lips parted as he panted.

Relann drew in a deep breath, tucked his chin, and lay down on the floor mat close to the clothes.

_ Go somewhere else. _

The Just-Gotten-Off Kelasar returned after showering, took one look at Relann, and retreated to the far end of the room near the door.

Relann didn't notice until hours later that the man didn't even sleep on the mat, but on the cold floor.

By then, Relann wasn't going to ask him to move. The younger man was sound asleep, and Relann couldn't stand the thought of those eyes following him  _ any more  _ tonight.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Today I will be addressing the plantation workers. An assembly area has been built for the purpose, and the two of you will stand behind me while we watch the overseer speak, and then as I give a few words.”

Relann didn't say a word, so Kelasar inclined his head. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Is he  _ sick _ ?” she asked, squinting at Relann.

“I do not believe so. Master?”

Only Relann's eyes moved. The brown orbs fixed Kelasar with a look that could murder hope. His jaw worked, clearly wanting to demand the other  _ never  _ call him that again— “I am not sick. What do you want us wearing?”

“Nothing at all. See you boys in half an hour. Kelasar, you know where to take him? It's the open area near the slave quarters—?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Kelasar led them out the door at a brisk pace, Relann reluctantly following.

“Was she serious?” Relann asked. “ _ Nothing  _ at all?”

“Serious as the grave.”

“How... how many people are going to be there?”  
“Several hundred, at least. Just this plantation's workers. She has others.”

“Other workers?”

“Other plantations.”

Relann's feet stopped.

Kelasar paused and looked around. “Master?”  
“Don't  _ call  _ me that!” Relann snapped. “I didn't raise you.”

“Is something wrong?”  
Relann stared at him, not quite believing the question, and then brushed past him to stalk into their room.

Kelasar watched him for a few long seconds before following.

 

* * *

 

Relann stood on Malare's far side, somewhat hidden from the masses of people.

That was going to change, very soon, when she moved up the stairs and onto that stage, and he would be expected to stand there, utterly unclothed—

_ There is no passion, there is serenity— _

But he had  _ plenty  _ of anger. Anger, humiliation, he wanted to  _ weep,  _ for frip's sake—

“If you put your shoulders back and cross your arms, it will be better,” Not-Kelasar's voice whispered in his ear.

Relann sent him a scowl. “And  _ how  _ does it help?”

“You won't fidget with your hands. And if you plant your feet and carry yourself like you have nothing to be ashamed of,  _ they'll  _ think you aren't.”

“Of course I'm  _ fripping ashamed _ ! I have a  _ collar  _ around my throat and  _ nothing else on. _ ”

“Shoulders back, head up, arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart. Look stern, or if you can't manage that, grumpy.”

“I don't seem to remember asking for your advice,” Relann snapped.

Malare sighed. “Boys. You love each other, remember?”

Relann snuck a glance out at the masses of people, many of whom were trying to catch a glimpse of him.

_ Sweet Force. _

“Apologize to Kelasar.”

Relann swallowed bile in his throat. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry,  _ Kelasar _ .”

Relann ground his teeth, then wrenched his jaw open to parrot, “I'm sorry, Kelasar.”

“Of course, Master,” was Not-Kelasar's smooth reply.

_ Frip you. _

“See? That wasn't so difficult,” Malare crooned. “Oh, there we go. Our turn.”

She stepped forward, Kelasar following, then Relann.

Relann tried to imagine himself clothed in Temple Guard garb. That always made people stare in fascination, point and whisper, but it hid the identity of the individual within.

_ I am hidden. _

Malare came to a stop, so did Kelasar, Relann moving to her other side—

_ They cannot see my soul. _

His chin came up, he braced his feet and shoulders—

He blurred his gaze so he would not have to see individual faces—

_ I have done nothing wrong. I have done nothing wrong. _

He folded his arms, felt the defiance, the rebellious fire in his face.

_ I will escape here, and I'm going to take all of you with me. _

Though now that he could see just how  _ many  _ there were here— 

_And more elsewhere..._

_ Force, how will I ever accomplish this? _

He stared straight ahead, pretending to be a statue, pretending he couldn't feel the gazes of so many, pretending he couldn't  _ feel  _ the emotions that silently wound through the crowd.

Arousal and lust were cruel to sense. Pity wasn't all that much better.

Worst of all: desperate hope.

_ You should  _ not  _ pin the last of your hope on me. _

_ I cannot save you. _

But he  _ could.  _ And he  _ was,  _ every day.

He somehow kept the whine that wanted to escape his throat inside.

Malare's haughty voice fell silent, and the crowd dutifully clapped. Relann had no idea what she'd said, and didn't much care.

“Who wants to thank our Jedi for his generosity?”

Relann very nearly turned his head to look at her, but stopped himself.  _ Kark. Has she been talking about me? _

He hadn't heard his name, hadn't heard any word to yank him from his morose thoughts—

People swarmed closer to the base of the stage, raising hands in the air, reaching for him.

Relann's eyes widened in horror.

“Step forward, Relann,” Malare instructed.

He did as he was told, and found himself staring back into the eyes of hundreds of suffering sentients, all watching him.

“You at the front.” Malare pointed. “You'll be spokesperson. Come up here and show him.”

“Yes, Mistress,” A young, female voice replied. One of the volunteers.

Within moments someone was kneeling before Relann, taking his cock in her hand and mouth—

“No, no, no, no—” He caught her up by the shoulders, making her stand, trying to breathe around his horror.

She stared up into his eyes in dismay.

“Force, you're barely more than a child.” Tears started to his eyes as he caressed a palm against the side of her face. “I don't want you to—”

She didn't look much older than his grandpadawan, Miya. A different species, yes, but the connection broke his heart.  _ She may not be the one I love, but she's someone else's Miya. And she's someone else's Glimmer. _

He pulled her into a hug, the first tears starting to break free and chase one another down his cheeks.

The hell that those who loved this young woman must go through, knowing they couldn't protect her—

“Be safe,” he whispered in her ear, voice choked. “Try to be safe, please.”

As he released her, she stared at him in utter bewilderment, tears of her own in her eyes.

And for the first time in this whole ordeal, Relann was no longer ashamed. He was too busy giving her a brokenhearted smile, hoping to ease her fear, her burden, her uncertainty. As her tears slipped free, he reached out a thumb and brushed them away.

His gaze traveled past her, found someone whose signature in the Force felt familiar. Not that he knew the man, but he understood  _ that  _ panic, that helplessness, that  _ gratitude— _

_Her father._

As the young woman dropped down from the stage to the ground, Relann met the father's gaze.

_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry the two of you are trapped here. I'm sorry I can't free you right this second. I'm sorry you had to stand there and think I would take advantage of your daughter. I'm sorry I can't guarantee that she will never be so threatened again. _

_I'm sorry._

Understanding and respect filled the father's gaze, and Relann received a nod.

He doubted the man knew what he'd been thinking, but the recognition, the solidarity—

It was a cool breeze in a soul-drying desert.

Relann returned to Malare's side, head bowed in subservience. She gripped his chin between thumb and forefinger to tilt his face up, and licked the tears away.

His hands clenched into fists by his sides, but he found the audience didn't make it  _ worse,  _ in this moment.

They too had their sentienthood stripped from them. They too had to submit to whatever this woman demanded.

They too suffered humiliation and the horror of no longer being a person, but a possession.

“You,” Malare proclaimed in a murmur, “are beautiful. And ridiculous. Come, Kelasar.”

As they descended the steps, Relann sent one last glance over the crowd.

_ I see you. I see all of you. _

_ Not one of you will I risk unless absolutely necessary. _

_I swear it._

“I am  _ exhausted, _ ” complained Malare as they were dropped off at the mansion again. “Standing out there in the  _ sun... _ ”

_ They work out there in the sun, day after day. _

“It's so tedious to inspire them, but it's my responsibility, you know? The poor things need to feel  _ heard. _ ”

_ I'm  _ sure  _ that's what they were feeling. _

“However the boredom and hard work make coming home so much more pleasant, don't you think?”

“Of course, Mistress,” Not-Kelasar murmured.

Relann sent him a look of disgust. They'd just seen a young woman not yet out of her teens who thought the only way of saying  _ thank you  _ was to give sexual favors.

_ It's wrong, it's cruel, it's vile she was raised to believe that. And she fully expected me to think it reasonable too. _

The worst moment of that had been her horror at being rejected, the self-doubt in her face, the despair in her eyes as she thought she  _ wasn't enough. _

She hadn't been grateful he rejected her advances.

She'd been afraid.

_ Oh, Force have mercy. _

Kelasar's gaze wavered under Relann's glare.

_ You're one of them. How can you have turned your back on your fellow slaves to now be the predator? The toy and tool of the woman responsible for these atrocities? How can you live with yourself? _

“The two of you were perfect out there,” Malare continued. “A matched set. Beautiful. And after that little display, Relann? They  _ love  _ you. Keep up this level of engagement with your surroundings, and I see a Glimmer visit in your future.”

Relann's heart bounded at the thought, even as he loathed himself for the response. He felt like a pet that had been promised a treat if he continued to please. Frip, he should start barking and dancing around the floor.

But no amount of dignity had any meaning next to Glimmer.

None.

Malare made for the closest couch in one of the sitting rooms and sprawled into it, fanning herself feverishly. “Stand there,” she directed, pointing.

They complied.

“Kelasar, I want you behind him. Pleasure him with your hand. I want to see his face.”

_ And everything else,  _ Relann thought sourly as “Kelasar” moved to obey.

A smooth chest pressed against his back, an arm wrapped around his waist and a hand wrapped around the length of him.

Relann grit his teeth and refused to gasp. His hands clenched into fists again, tensed by his sides as he tried to go somewhere else in his mind—

“Relax,” Malare instructed. “One would think you're being led to the slaughter.”

The hand knew what it was doing, and so did the lips, pressing kisses along the back of his neck, shoulder, throat—

“This is  _ not  _ how Glimmer comes to visit.”

Everything went cold inside of Relann, panic building in his throat.

It was one thing to be raped. Another to be forced to contribute to his own rape.

That was...

He felt his soul crack further, a structure so scored that it would utterly shatter one of these days.

He feared that when it gave, he would not be able to build anything out of the broken pieces.

Kelasar's free hand, the metal one, caressed one of Relann's fists. Relann forced his hand to go limp, and in response, Kelasar tangled their fingers.  _ Pretending  _ he cared. Pretending he didn't feed off the misery of his fellow slaves when he should stand  _ with  _ them—

When Not-Kelasar's living hand abandoned its soft caress to try to set a pace, Relann winced in discomfort.

“Kelasar, there is a jar in the end table's drawer— be a darling and go fetch it. Your master is looking uncomfortable.”

One last kiss against his shoulder, and then “Kelasar” was gone.

Relann stared at the wall, frustrated by the unwanted tension strung all through his body, frustrated by the ache low in his belly—

“Is it  _ so  _ difficult?” Malare asked, eyes narrowed. “Most people if they were allowed freedom from their jobs to be allowed to lounge around and frip all day would be delighted.”

“I'm not most people.”

“No, you're a Jedi, which means you should be even more sex-starved than most, and more willing to indulge when you can without violating your conscience.”

_ You don't even know what a conscience  _ is.

And then “Kelasar” was back, and touching him again, and Relann was clinging to his arm and desperately trying to find in himself the will to appear  _ pleased,  _ he had to  _ see Glimmer,  _ she was the  _ only  _ thing that would make this hell  _ survivable— _

He dropped his head back against Not-Kelasar's shoulder. He couldn't smile, couldn't twist his face into anything other than anguish, so to mask it he let his mouth fall open and his eyes wander instead of hold on to a single point to wait it out.

Not-Kelasar's breathing grew harsh as he worked, nose tucked against Relann's throat.

And then Relann spilled onto the floor, lying back in Not-Kelasar's arms and panting.

_ Please, please let it have been good enough. _

“I like the change of attitude,” Malare mused. “We'll see if it continues.”

Relann tried to cling to hope, to believe he wasn't an utter coward and failure—

“I think a kiss would be appropriate, don't you, Kelasar? A nice,  _ heated  _ kiss.”  
And then “Kelasar” was in front of him, hands framing Relann's face and his mouth doing strange, demanding, luring things to Relann's.

And all Relann could think of was how much he didn't want any of this.

_ Glimmer. _

Awkward, he lifted his hands to rest on Not-Kelasar's biceps.

_ She wants the aesthetic of us together. _

He adjusted his hands to accentuate the other man's strength, fingers feather-light against the corded muscle even as Kelasar's lips parted from his, leaning their foreheads together and simply breathing.

He could sense Malare's approval.

And never,  _ never  _ had he felt so destroyed as he did in that moment.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

He was expecting it this time, when “Kelasar” followed him into their room.

It didn't make it much easier.

Relann turned to ask who should take the shower first when he accidentally caught sight of the other man's quite interested cock.

Relann's cheeks flushed and fury flooded his system. “Looks like you should have the shower first,” he muttered.

“Kelasar” moved to the other side of the room, and as Relann risked a glance his way, Relann saw Not-Kelasar's face was just as red as Relann's own.

In the doorway he paused. “You think me a monster,” he spoke up, “but my body was trained to react this way.”

And then he was into the shower and Relann turned his back and actually covered his ears with his hands.

It was one thing to know the man who raped him was jacking off to Relann's image.

But he didn't have to  _ hear  _ it.

At least... not tonight. Hopefully never, if Malare never found out.

He decided he'd shower in the morning, too sick to wait.

He curled up on the mat, back to the room, face to the clothes, and drew his loinskirt over his hips like a concealing blanket.

He closed his eyes, letting the tears escape, knowing “Kelasar” couldn't see them or Relann's shaking shoulders at the moment. Couldn't see the collapsing body, the dying heart.

Couldn't hear his ragged breaths as he silently sobbed.

Lost in hell, Relann only realized the water was no longer running when he could no longer hear it.

Afraid “Kelasar” would see him weeping, he bit down on his lip and hugged himself, desperate to regain enough control to hide.

He waited to hear footsteps...

None came.

After an eternity, Relann leaned up and peered around. He discovered “Kelasar” curled up in the spot he had before, back to the room, and feigning sleep.

_ He saw. Who knows how long he's been in here. _

Relann felt too humiliated to speak to him.

So once again, the other slept on the unforgiving floor.

 

* * *

 

“You did see there were other clothes, right?” Malare pointed out, studying the loinskirt Relann again wore.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, tone carefully respectful.

“You're excessively fond of that thing.”

He remained silent.

She shrugged. “Kelasar, tomorrow I want you both in the green drapery, with the matching gold armbands.”

“As you wish.”

She unhooked the clasp holding Relann's visual armor together, and let the garment drop to the floor.

She scowled, staring at his cock.

He closed his eyes against the cruelty of it, then opened them because he didn't want to be caught unawares if she was going to  _ do  _ something to him—

_ Please don't. Not this time. Please. _

“Four weeks,” she grumbled. “ _ Four weeks! _ It's been two  _ days _ , and I'm  _ sick  _ of this. What's the point in  _ having  _ a pleasure slave if it's simply going to be an exercise in  _ frustration _ ? The next one had  _ better  _ be Force sensitive.”

_ And if it is, what will you do with it? A child is not a toy, to be picked up and discarded whenever the mood strikes you. _

He could see it now, a pure little soul, simply wanting its mother's  _ love,  _ shoved aside into the hands of a nurse or tutor, growing embittered, cruel as it languished for care—

_ My child. _

If the Zygerrians had gelded him, he might be  _ dead  _ by now, instead of here, condemning innocent little ones to terrible lives—

Or he could be dancing for a Hutt.

But if  _ that  _ were the case he would be able to fight back. He would fight, they would kill him as he tried to escape, and he would be free.

_ Why couldn't I have been born sterile? _

“Tell me stories.” Malare lounged over to her bed and collapsed onto it. “Relann, tell me stories of the Kelasar you left behind. My Kelasar, pay close attention.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

_ Do you have to give her a yes  _ every time  _ she speaks? _ Relann struggled to hide his revulsion, but the knowing look in Kelasar's eye said he'd seen it.

_ What will he do in retaliation?  _ Relann worried, feeling his own eyes go fearful.  _ I'm trapped alone with him overnight, and if I use the Force to fight him— _

Malare was too capricious, too controlling. If he harmed her work of art, for  _ any  _ reason, people would suffer. 

Maybe even Glimmer.

Kelasar's steady stare didn't ease.

Relann tried to still the racing in his heart. “What kind of stories?”

“About your adventures. You're a Jedi, and the Master of Kelasar.” She drew the name out, as if tasting it. “So tell me about him.”

_ Get his name out of your mouth,  _ he inwardly snarled.

“He looks just like the one you have.”

“Of course he does. I am nothing if not thorough.”

Relann swallowed his disgust. “He is young, and brave, and kind.”

Malare groaned. “ _ I  _ could have told you that! I want  _ stories,  _ not  _ attributes.  _ Show me, don't tell me.”

Relann ran over their missions together in his mind, searching for something the public already knew the details of all the way through. “During the crisis on Pantora—”

“ _ No.  _ Not things  _ I already know!  _ Do you _ really  _ think I did no research on you, Master Jedi? Only the  _ finest  _ sire for my children. I breed fathiers. I know how this is done.”

He stared at her in disbelief.  _ I'm not an animal. _

“You're thirty-seven years old, you're fully human, you've passed through many missions without ending up maimed and with only a few scars, you're fit, strong, healthy, beautiful now that that ridiculous beard is gone, and you have spirit. Vicious, untamed spirit.” A smile curved her lips. “Not too young to have been untried, not old enough to have lost your charm. Positive aspects for me, who has to put up with your company. So tell. Me. A. Story.”

“A few years ago, just after Kelasar's knighting, we responded to a request for help from Mirial.”

“I've been to Mirial,” Malare offered. “A beautiful culture and people.”

“It wasn't on Mirial itself, but a cold moon covered in ash long thought uninhabited.”

She leaned forward, boredom gone. “You found natives.”

“I did.”

“A previously undiscovered species!” Malare's eyes sparkled. “What were they like?”  
“Tall. Taller than Kelasar by enough to be intimidating. Covered in gray scales; a short proboscis-like mouth, four eyes. All black, two large, two small.”

“Why the distress call?”  
“A Miral science post had been destroyed and its staff attacked by the natives. The Mirial government thought pirates responsible, so they called us for aid.”

Malare smirked. “And you took care of it.”

Relann inclined his head. “It wasn't me. The young Senator of Mirial managed the situation herself— creating a peace. Kelasar and I mostly stood by and watched.”

“Oh, I somehow doubt that.” Malare studied him with hooded eyes. “I would guess that you tried to shepherd her in that direction.”

“Perhaps so.”

“And Kelasar. Did he simply stand there looking beautiful, or did he have another purpose?”

“As I said, we—”

“Of course he had another purpose,” Malare purred. “Keeping you warm. Is that why he was so silent during the mission? His jaw was too abused and sore from pleasuring you for unnecessary speech?”

“Our relationship isn't like that,” Relann ground out through grit teeth.

Malare grinned, predatory now. “You're a gentle lover? That's not how I see you. I see you grabbing his head and driving into him. I see his hands clutching at your thighs, begging you for air, I see you choking him, forcing him to accommodate you longer than you should. I see him nearly suffocate when you release, nearly  _ die  _ from your pleasure. I see you let go of him and he falls to the floor, gagging, every thought gone from his mind except a desperate need to  _ breathe.  _ You crouching beside him and petting his hair, telling him how good he's been, how proud you are of him.”

Relann stared at her in utter horror. “He's my  _ son, _ ” he somehow managed to whimper out. “My  _ brother,  _ not my  _ lover— _ ”

“Ah, but  _ here  _ he is.” Malare sat upright. “And I think... Kelasar should be on his knees now.”

“Kelasar” moved, dropping to kneel before the naked Relann.

Relann took a reflexive step back, saw the displeasure gathering in Malare's face—

Stepped forward again.

There was unmitigated dread in Not-Kelasar's eyes, and  _ fear. _ It startled Relann.

“You know what?  _ I  _ want to do it. Bring him here. Hell  _ damn  _ it, but I'm  _ sick  _ of Doctor Orders!”

Kelasar was on his feet in an instant, not quite as graceful as he usually was, and roughly grabbing Relann's arm, hauling him to the bed and then backing away.

Relann stared after him, bewildered by the tremor in Not-Kelasar's hand. When he tried to get a sense of the man, he found a confusing flurry of emotions that half of which didn't make sense going together in the first place.

Relann gave up as he was pressed against the bed, and Malare's lips closed around his length.

He didn't know how to interact in this scenario. He'd never seen it done except in security footage used to catch criminals—

He whimpered.

He couldn't stand to watch the lips closed around him, the wickedly gleaming eyes staring up at him. He turned his head, found “Kelasar” standing there. Their gazes locked, Relann's traumatized and twisted, Not-Kelasar's... furious. The murder Relann saw in his eyes terrified the Jedi, already so alone and lost in this place.

He tore his gaze away, squeezing his eyes shut and finding himself swamped with sheer  _ homesickness. _

He longed for the Temple with its quiet joy, the currents of love and peace, the place where both mind and body could find rest and contentment—

His body trembled under the onslaught, his fingers scrabbled to grip something, anything, found the sheets, bunched them tight in his grip—

All of the conflicting emotions in “Kelasar” fled away, consumed into one, overpowering emotion.

Hate.

_ What will he do to me? _

Right when Relann knew from recent experience it would be over, Malare pulled back, looking highly satisfied.

Relann lay struggling to breathe, staring up at her in confusion.

“ _ That.  _ For  _ four weeks, _ ” she complained. “Can you imagine? Going  _ four weeks  _ without sex?”  
That  _ wasn't  _ a serious question, was it?

_ I managed thirty-seven years without spontaneously dying. Certainly without all this whinging. _

But he had to admit it might not be a fair comparison. With the Force, he had access to other forms of connecting with people, ones far more intense, satisfying, and intimate. Those without the Force didn't have as many options.

She settled over his thigh, and he realized she wasn't wearing anything under the low-cut dress. She rocked against his leg, as if trying to sink the slick of her arousal into his pores.

Which was a horrifying thought that nearly made him gag.

She twisted a little and arched her back, rubbing against him in blatant need.

Relann hated the noises she made, the appreciative moans and whimpers. Hated she was rutting against his leg.

Hated this whole place.

His leg ended up clenched so tight between her thighs that it  _ hurt _ , damn it—

And then she shuddered, dropping forward onto his chest, uncaring that her elbows  _ also  _ caused pain. She pressed a kiss to his jaw, then another to his throat.

“I made a good decision,” she announced, tapping his nose with a finger. “You are very amusing.”

Another flare of anger from “Kelasar.”  
It sent a tingle of dread through Relann's system.

“I, unfortunately, have meetings I actually need to pay attention for.” Malare poked a sharp fingernail into Relann's chest, making him wince. “And if I have you two delicious boys in there with me, there won't be any  _ focusing. _ At least, not on what needs to happen.  _ So.  _ You get to spend an hour in the closed garden, and then you'll spend the rest of the day in your room. And, if you have a wonderful kiss with Kelasar, your legs around his waist, then I'll let Glimmer come visit you for an hour in the evening.”

Relann's heart flew into his throat. He sat upright, nearly toppling her off in the process. She laughed as he stood and approached “Kelasar.”

A vicious sneer marred the younger man's face, but he stepped forward and roughly pulled Relann's hip against his, and then devoured his mouth.

Relann allowed his lips to part, but couldn't bring himself to do more than passively allow the violation. He did, however, leap up and twine his legs around Not-Kelasar's hips.

_ Wonderful kiss. _

That had been the instruction.

Relann tangled the fingers of one hand in Not-Kelasar's hair, the other resting on a well-shaped shoulder, again having his fingers ghost-light.

Sensing it wasn't quite enough, that Malare was hesitating, Relann tilted his head further to appear cooperative and rocked his hips against Not-Kelasar's. The other man choked, body responding to Relann's proximity, and Relann found himself slammed up against the wall, the aggressor's tongue and teeth doing things against his own even as Not Kelasar's hips snapped up multiple times in quick succession, a desperate, demanding gesture.

Relann felt his own erection being pinned between them, the friction just enough to ache.

A happy sigh from Malare had Relann pulling his head away from Kelasar's to look around at her.

“Visit from the reject baby,” Malare confirmed, headed for her refresher. “Out you go. Kelasar will show you to the garden. And tonight, you will let Kelasar pleasure you even though I won't be there. I like the thought of it.”

Relann pushed against Kelasar's shoulder, trying to shove him back, unhooking his legs from Kelasar's body. The younger man didn't move.

Not sure he could stave of the panic long enough to wait to be released, Relann slid past him to escape from the wall, shuddering at the full-body contact that required.

He hoped nothing terrible happened in the garden.

He wasn't counting on mercy.

 

* * *

 

The walk wasn't long to arrive, and Relann soon found himself in a garden completely encased by the house, every exit leading to the mansion's halls. He looked up and squinted at the bright sunlight, desperately glad to feel it against his face.

No guards to be seen, no other slaves, none of Malare's friends—

For an hour...

_ Freedom. _

Relann shied away from the false Kelasar, putting as much distance between them as he could with a few seconds' time.

Seeing the other man did not pursue, and instead simply lay down on one of the stone benches to bask in the sun, Relann turned his attention to the great masses of flowers that filled this place.

He kept a wary eye out, just in case, but “Kelasar” didn't seem interested in harming him at the moment.

In the Force, the thousand tiny voices of the plants sang without a worry to tarnish their gleam.

_ Something here finds joy. _

He let his fingers caress leaves, tucked his nose into blossoms, felt safer in their embrace than he  _ ever  _ would anywhere else in this wretched place.

Feeling the plants brush against his Force signature without recoiling almost made him feel  _ clean  _ again.

Tears burned his eyes as he sank to one of the benches, aware enough that if he dropped to his knees on the gravel walkway it would hurt  _ worse  _ than his bare feet against the same rough stones.

_Force have mercy on me._ _Help me be strong, please,_ please _let me be strong for Glimmer._

He sat there, heart bleeding until the crunch of gravel brought his head up in alarm.

“Time's up,” Not-Kelasar announced.

Relann gave a nod and hurried in the direction of the door they'd passed through, making sure to give the other man a wide berth to stay out of arm's reach.

He could sense the other's frustration. The dark edge of disgust and anger.

Relann shuddered and followed him back through the halls to their room.

This time he sped to the shower, eager to be ready in time for Glimmer.

The possibility of “Kelasar's” watching eyes seemed to matter much less against the idea of needing to be done and  _ out  _ before the baby arrived so she wouldn't be alone with the man who only  _ looked  _ like his former Padawan.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The door slid open, bringing Relann to his feet, quivering with fear and expectation alike.

A woman stepped in, holding a bundle in her arms.

Relann sprang for the door, shoving “Kelasar” out of the way in his haste, and with reverent hands took the infant from the other.

“Are you taking care of her?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Has she been fed? Has she cried? Is she—” He looked down into the tiny face, saw wide silver eyes staring up at him.

Before he could look up again, the woman was gone and the door closed once more.

“She's much heavier than before,” Relann murmured, staring at the small hand reaching for his face.

_ Too alert. Too heavy. _

_Much bigger too._

He turned around, alarmed gaze seeking Not-Kelasar's own. “She can't have grown this much in the time I haven't seen her.”  
The other man just stared back.

Relann clutched the baby closer, trying to stifle his fear. “I haven't been drugged while I slept again, have I? To lose track of more time?”  
“Kelasar” shrugged, then shook his head.

“This baby is  _ not three days old! _ ”

“She gestated really fast.” Fake Kelasar shrugged again. “Maybe it's growth acceleration.”

Relann's heart leaped into his throat.

_ Dear Force, no. Please no. _

Maybe he was more tired today. Less wired. Maybe his memory of how small she was had been exaggerated. And... no, she didn't look like what he thought a newborn looked like, but at the Temple he'd been working with kids  _ older  _ than newborns, so...

Glimmer sniffled, picking up on his distress without the help of the Force.

Relann's gaze snapped to her face, aghast. “No, no,” he soothed. “It's alright.” He carried her over to his chosen place and sat down. “Shh, precious one.”

Feeling his skin crawl, he looked up again to find “Kelasar” still watching them.

“Do you  _ mind _ ?” Relann hissed.

The other man's face lit up crimson, and he turned around to face the wall.

He  _ had  _ to still be listening, but Relann felt a little better now that those filthy eyes weren't aimed for Glimmer.

The hour passed too swiftly. He wasn't  _ ready  _ when a different woman came to take her away.

He pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead, swore he would see her again soon, begged the woman to be careful with her and make sure she was fed—

He found himself staring at the door, feeling as if his soul had been ripped out.

His eyes filled with tears, his shoulders heaved—

A hand touched his shoulder.

Relann recoiled. “Don't  _ touch  _ me!”

“We still have to—”

“I  _ know, _ ” Relann snapped, horrified at the thought of the other  _ saying  _ it aloud.

“Kelasar” looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I would have thought you would have wanted to get it over with.”  
Relann found he couldn't really argue with that, so he just froze, muttering, “Might as well do it  _ here. _ ”

“Okay...” The other edged towards him as if he might  _ bite,  _ like he was a rabid animal.

_ I hate you. _

_ No. No. I can't. Please, no. _

_ I  _ must  _ keep my light. It's all I have here. The only part of me they can't touch. _

_ I will not defile the only thing they  _ can't.

Slick-covered metal caressed his length, stroking him to readiness.

_ His hand isn't cold. _

That meant “Kelasar” had warmed it in preparation for him.

A kindness? Or just a  _ false  _ kindness meant to lull him to inattention so the attack would be all the more cruel when it arrived?

The other didn't drag it out, and soon Relann hunched forward, spilling onto the floor.

Relann pulled away, disgusted.

No. Tonight he was  _ not  _ sleeping while slick and semen clung to him.

Another shower was in order.

As he turned to go accomplish that, he heard a barely audible muttering of, “I'm sorry.”

Relann didn't turn around.

He just  _ couldn't.  _

If he did, he might  _ injure  _ the man, and that would put Glimmer out of reach.

 

* * *

He awoke to the summoning chime, dressed in what “Kelasar” picked out for him, and without speaking a single word, followed him into the torture chamber.

They found  _ her  _ sitting on a small round stool before a mirror, preparing herself for a day  _ out,  _ as she put it.

“And you two will accompany me.” She smiled, spinning to face them. “Ah, good, Kelasar. I see you dressed him exactly as I asked.”

Relann caught sight of himself in the mirror, of the way the green draperies around him parted so that everything beneath could be seen when he walked, his genitals concealed only when he stood still.

“I think the collars and chains will do nicely today, if you'll fetch them, Kelasar darling?”  
Relann glared at him as he moved to a cabinet and withdrew gold circlets and wispy chains of the same color. He forced himself to stand still as hands, one flesh and one metal, fastened the marks of slavery around his throat, draped them down to his wrists, and then—

He shied back, though somehow he managed to keep his feet firmly planted where they were supposed to be as those hands reached to fasten the last of the harness around his balls, and something else, something  _ new _ for his dick, forcing it to stand upright without the muscles' cooperation—

And now standing still did  _ not  _ conceal him from view.

Relann grit his teeth and clung to his silence.

He found himself watching as “Kelasar” applied mirroring decorations to himself until his hands dipped at his waistline, and then Relann looked away.

“So shy,” Malare crooned with a giggle. “So adorable. Come, boys. Let's go visiting.”

After the first humiliating housecall where Malare's “friends” and the bodyguards and slaves of all of the above  _ ogled  _ him without once looking at his  _ face,  _ Relann began to wonder if he would get used to it. They said a being could get used to  _ anything _ , didn't they?

He didn't that day.

They visited house after house, each visit less than an hour before they stepped back into her fancy conveyance and moved on to the next.

And again with the drooling and staring.

“Kelasar” kept his calm, and even  _ encouraged  _ it by sending appraising glances of his own, or little smiles while making the tiniest eye contact before focusing again on Malare's back.

_ He's enjoying this?  _ Relann wondered in horror.  _ The attention? _

It was at the last house of the day, as the stars began to appear in the sky and the last rays of the sun died out, that  _ it  _ happened.

Malare's final friend of the day eyed the “set” of Jedi with open appreciation and asked, “Might I sample the plumage of this beautiful pair you've caught?”  
“Certainly,” Malare replied, with an expression that suggested she felt herself both benevolent and generous. She sent a calm look in Relann's direction.

_ Yes. _

_Glimmer if I behave the way you want. I remember._

The thought of returning to his cage to have a few moments with his daughter fortified his heart.

The woman stepped up to “Kelasar” and kissed him.

Relann watched, careful to note what the expected reaction might be.

Tongue. Lots of tongue.

The woman's hand reached through the drape of fabric, cupping his balls and squeezing. “Kelasar” rocked his hips forward in a fluid, gentle motion, smiling into her eyes as she broke away from the kiss.

“Not bad,” she mused with an open-mouthed smile in Kelasar's direction.

Relann froze, refusing to run as she approached him.

Instead of kissing him, she simply seized him by the scrotum.

He choked, his body reacting in instinctive fear for its well-being, hunched and trembling.

“Not used to touch yet, this one. Have you bedded him?”  
“Bore a child of his, yet he still acts like a blushing bride. You should see him with Kelasar. My Lasar takes excellent care of him and makes him feel good.”

“Kelasar” leered.

Relann lowered his eyes, trying desperately to hold back the tears now burning to fall.

“That is something I should like to see sometime.”

“Certainly.” Malare waved her hand at “Kelasar.”

He stepped closer, sending Relann a promising grin before moving behind him.

Then Kelasar's hands ran over Relann's shoulders, down his arms, down his sides, brushed aside fabric, pulled Relann flush against his stomach, Not-Kelasar's cock an unsettling pressure behind him.

Kelasar teased Relann's dick with light touches, then firm strokes.

He had slick. When had he—?

Relann thought he'd known humiliation before, but with Malare's  _ friend  _ drinking in his every flinch, grimace, hitched breath—

_ Be over. Let it be over.  _

“Kelasar” drew it out longer than he had last night, breathing heavily against Relann's neck, rocking his hips against Relann's ass while his human hand kept Relann firmly in place.

Relann held very still,  _ As if that will keep me from being hurt. As if it— _

His body shuddered forwards, but the ring constricting him kept him from coming. A whimper escaped his throat.

“Well done,” Malare praised. “We really must be going home now, but I will see you again soon.”

“Of course. Whenever you want to bring this brace of fair creatures to my door, I will never say  _ no. _ ”

_ A brace. As if I were an avian shot for sport. _

_ And yet isn't that exactly what happened? _

Glimmer was brought to him again that evening, this time by a different slave. Kelasar stayed out of his way again, but Relann could barely spare him a glance.

Glimmer was bigger. Again.

Relann clutched his child close and struggled against the terror.

_ What is happening to you? _

Her eyes weren't normal either, for a pureblood human. Perhaps Melare had a mix in her blood, it might explain the child's silver eyes—

_ Or are you blind? _

Relann moved his finger around in front of the baby's gaze, trying to see if she could—

Yes. She was tracking it.

“She's bigger,” Not-Kelasar commented.

And Relann was so alarmed by the truth of the confirmation that he couldn't find it in himself to be angry that his abuser had looked at Relann's daughter again.

 

* * *

 

“She's growing unnaturally fast,” Relann finished.

Melare simply  _ looked  _ at him. “It's rather logical, yes. She gestated at an accelerated rate as well.”

“She appears months old, instead of five days.” Relann might have been guessing about the first number, but he felt no qualms about risking a lie. “It's not healthy— how swiftly will she grow up? A matter of weeks?”

Malare brushed past him, heading for her massive walk-in wardrobe. “I don't know. And why does it matter?”  
“Because— because once you have a Force-sensitive child, you won't want it dying of old age just a few short years after it's born, would you? Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?”  
She tossed a glance over her shoulder as she dropped her nightgown to the floor. “Clever try. But I don't want to have to  _ wait  _ twenty years before it's useful. Let it age up that far, and then I'll implement a slowing down.”

“So you  _ have  _ one, then?” Relann asked, desperate.

Naked, Malare glanced over her gowns in an attempt to choose one. “No.”

_ There isn't even a cure—? _

“Please,” Relann whispered.

Malare turned around and eyed him thoughtfully.

Relann winced and looked away.

“I could turn my retained scientists in that direction. If I had a reason to.”

_ No. No, what could she possibly want from me now? _

“You want your little pet to have a prolonged childhood? Fine. Every morning when it's been confirmed you've upheld your end of the deal, the scientists will work on finding an answer that day.”

Relann didn't yet know what terrible thing she would demand of him, and yet he already knew he would give it.

It was a terrible feeling.

“Every night, before you go to sleep, while the two of you are alone in your room, you will let Kelasar pleasure you to orgasm.”

_ What? _ “With no witness?”  
“You two are supposed to behave like lovers. It won't happen unless you  _ are  _ lovers,” Malare explained, as if that made all the sense in the world. She reached up on tip-toes to pull a package down from a high shelf. Opening it, she pulled out a whimsical white dress. “We'll have the med droid that monitors your health check you each morning to see if you've gotten off, and we'll all be happier for it.”

“Fine,” Relann blurted. “Agreed. Will they please begin today?”

“Hmm?” Malare wriggled into the dress and slipped her feet into matching white high-heels. “Oh, no. Tomorrow. As soon as the droid has cleared you.”

_ Hold on, Glimmer. I'm trying.  _

“Also, I'm going to be away for the next few days. I have a study schedule for you, and just keep in mind that even if I'm not here personally, all the same rules apply as before.”

_ Oh, I'm not stupid enough to think that you'd leave if there was any doubt of that. _

“Today, Kelasar is going to teach you how to kiss, and you'll practice it with the slaves I leave out for you. He's also going to teach you how to properly have sex with a woman, because while it was amusing that first time, I do want you refined. So. Kissing in between sex attempts.”

Relann stared at her in horrified disbelief.  _ She's... she's serious. Oh Force. _

On her way out of the closet she patted his cheek. It took massive effort to keep his lip from curling in a snarl.

Kelasar had that intent stare that frightened Relann to the bone.

_ Whatever it is he has against me... _

And, really, it could be anything from having to babysit him to being surgically altered for Relann's “benefit”—

_ ...He's not going to settle for glowers forever. _

 

* * *

 

Relann could sense the Force residual of a truly overwhelming amount of sex in this room. It didn't smell of it, and all the fabrics were luxurious and unstained, but the buzzing in the Force put his teeth on edge. Orgies had happened here, and not all of the participants had been happy about it.

The echoes of the slaves who'd had to feign enthusiasm ached in his heart.

_ I am not the first. _

_But perhaps, someday I will enforce the last._

That awful song of sadness said he wasn't alone. And while he needed  _ something  _ to ease the loneliness and fear,  _ this  _ wasn't it.

He found three women waiting, reclining on the lounges. Two wore sumptuous dresses, the other, nothing at all.

He averted his gaze from her, looking instead to the Mirialan with long, glossy curls in a whimsical updo. She looked young.

Too young.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Sixteen standard.”

Relann planted his feet. “No. I will do what is asked of me, I will behave, I will cooperate. But not with her.” He looked to Kelasar, a pleading determination in his eyes begging to be heard.  _ I can't. Please don't feel threatened— _

Kelasar shrugged and jerked his thumb.

Puzzled, the Mirialan peeled out of the borrowed finery while Relann turned his back, and then the soft footfalls alerted him she'd left the room.

Already, the naked woman was putting on the dress.

“You got a problem with any of the others?” Kelasar asked, an edge in his voice.

_ How about we start with none of us having given consent?  _ But Relann shook his head, mute. 

“Good, then. These dresses were picked because the fastenings are different, but fairly standard, and you need to be able to get them open and off without looking like an idiot. But first you're going to have sex with one of them, so that we can get a head start on your refractory period. Should take you about a half-an-hour. That's standard. I'm younger, so it's shorter. Okay. Let's go.”

Sure.

Relann's body felt superbly uninterested, in sync with his mind.

He eyed the two women, the one a pale-skinned human, the other an azure-skinned Twi'lek.

“What are your names?” Relann asked.

Kelasar huffed. “No, no, you're not here to pick them up from a bar. You don't have to convince the Mistress she wants you. Just—” again an imperative gesture, and the Twi'lek lay down on her back on the bed-like couch, spreading her legs and pulling up the skirts.

“Go,” Kelasar directed, tugging the loincloth off of Relann's body, leaving him nothing.

Relann felt his cheeks flush with shame, but he obeyed, moving to brace himself over the Twi'lek. He chanced a glance into her eyes, but she looked bored and resigned.

_ I am sorry. _

Kelasar moved over, his fingers briskly drawing Relann to an erection, and then slipping a thin sleeve over the swollen flesh. “There. Okay. Now— she's got a clit, just like a human, alright? Just a little bigger. Easier for you to find. It's why she's here.”

A metal hand clothed in leather reached down, slid over the woman's hairless mound and in, just a bit. Lekku twitched, and the body undulated, just a little. “You try.”  
Relann reached, hesitated—

_ No, I can't— _

But Glimmer, with her silver eyes, and her body stretching  _ far  _ too fast—

He awkwardly tried to place his finger where Not-Kelasar had.

Oh. Yes. There was a... thing. And the woman reacted with a hiss when he touched it.

“You're pushing too hard,” Not-Kelasar directed. “Go softer.”

Relann gentled his touch, stroking just a bit—

“Yeah. Okay. See, she's making slick now. Go ahead and enter.”

Relann grit his teeth and eased forward into her body.

The Twi'lek wriggled a little, a soft smile touching her lips.

Relann sensed no pain in her.

_ Good, then. _

He might not be able to prevent any of this, but he certainly didn't want to inflict physical suffering as well as the psychological damage happening all the way around, here.

Muscles inside fluttered around his cock, startling Relann.

“What?” Kelasar asked. “She gripped you?”

Relann gave a blank nod.

“They can control some of that. Okay, find your rhythm. It's just going to take practice, so get to it. We'll shift to another position next time. Just... go.”

Relann did as told, pursuing orgasm as he tried not to notice how checked-out the Twi'lek had become. She moaned in encouragement, twined her heels around him to draw him deeper and tipped her head back, but her eyes were vacant.

Relann wished he could disconnect too, but reacting to Kelasar's directions required his attention remain here.

 


End file.
